Chapter 2.1: The Day the Shoelace Was Born

Shion and the Supervisor journeyed through the wasteland, Shion still carrying the corpse.

“Come to think of it, sensei, why not use the compulsory transfer?”

If the mark in his student handbook had been detected on the other side, he should have been forcibly transferred back to the school building.

But instead of that, the Supervisor had come all this way. Shion couldn’t understand why.

“We knew where you were sent… but we couldn’t get any more details. So, I, being the most mobile, came here to bring you back directly. Oh, and don’t worry. They can just barely get a lock on the location I transferred to from their side.”

In other words, it wasn’t safe until they reached that spot.

Even with a teacher present, he couldn’t be completely at ease—or so he thought, yet Shion was relaxed.

After all, his hands were full carrying the corpse.

If someone had to face the danger, it would have to be the Supervisor, the teacher.

The fact that she didn’t reprimand him for carrying the body was a sign of her intent to handle whatever came next.

Basically, Shion didn’t have to do anything anymore.

“I see…”

“I won’t say you were just unlucky. If you’re an adventurer, you’ll run into more unexpected situations than you can count. But I believe what determines one’s aptitude as an adventurer is how they deal with those situations. In that respect—you’re admirable, Harukaze. You’re truly composed for your age.”

There was no trace of pity in the Supervisor’s voice; she seemed to be giving him a genuine evaluation.

Is that woman blind?

You couldn’t blame someone for thinking her eyes were glass beads.

(Shut it, reptile.)

“First, you sensed something was off the moment you arrived and advised a retreat. Second, you’re facing your own failures head-on instead of looking away. While not forcefully stopping Akagi and the others, and not immediately following Kuroda wasn’t a complete mistake, it wasn’t exactly correct, either. You understand that perfectly.”

As for Akagi and the others, the moment Kuroda said she was staying, Shion had no intention of stopping them, but of course, the Supervisor had no way of knowing his true motives.

“And most importantly—you can cry for someone else. That is something right for a person to do, even before being an adventurer. It may be a weakness, a softness, but I believe it’s something to be treasured. Don’t you forget the tears you shed today.”

She was a teacher to the core. Her dedication to teaching and guiding was truly wonderful.

The only problem was that her student had not a single shred of desire to learn.

Th-This woman… how do I put it… She’s an idiot.

The snake murmured in a tone that seemed to have gone past exasperation and into admiration.

(You fool. I was just one step ahead of her.)

What a massive ego. And on top of that, you’re a cowardly, greedy little bastard. You’re beyond saving.

There probably weren’t many humans who got told off like this by a non-human.

In that sense, perhaps the boy named Shion Harukaze was a rare specimen.

Though, high rarity doesn’t necessarily mean something is good.

“Say, Harukaze, will you continue being an adventurer?”

He had just encountered a traumatic incident.

It would be understandable if he quit on the first day of school.

“No, I won’t quit. A life was lost before my eyes today. I can’t get that back. But maybe, someday, in a different way, I can be the one to save someone’s life. I want to reclaim on this path what I’ve lost on this path. If I run away here, nothing will change, right? I will continue being an adventurer to one day part ways with this sweet, foolish, and weak version of myself.”

For a moment, the Supervisor was speechless at the fierce flame of will dwelling in his tear-reddened eyes.

“I see. In that case, I’ll recommend you for A-Class as soon as we get back.”

At those words, the color drained from Shion’s face.

“…I must respectfully decline. I am not worthy of being in that class.”

A-Class was the top-tier class. It was probably the same in preparatory schools and the like.

Being top-tier meant receiving special attention—in other words, it was tough.

And an adventurer school wasn’t a school for getting into a good university.

To put it plainly, entering A-Class meant nothing less than an increased risk to his life.

“My skills are simply not sufficient, and I don’t believe I have that much of a future ahead of me. Though there are individual differences, everyone eventually hits the limits of their talent. Even if some can trek beyond the horizon… I’m not one of them.”

He was neighborhood convenience store-level, at best.

“Not being overconfident is a good thing. However, you aren’t the one who decides the limits of your talent. Besides, it’s a teacher’s job to develop a student’s abilities in the first place. Harukaze, you’re serious and diligent. That’s why you’re capable of self-reflection. You’re the kind of person who makes it to the top.”

It wasn’t like he was reflecting on his actions at all.

Those admirable words that came from Shion’s mouth were all nothing more than a way to shift responsibility.

“I’ll admit, if you were a vanguard, I might have reconsidered. But your aptitude is for the rearguard. You use body-enhancement magic, correct? If so, it’s not a problem if you’re a little clumsy. That’s something you can polish over time. What’s important is the ability to make accurate judgments. What’s demanded of someone in the rearguard is to survey the state of battle, pay attention to the smallest details, and manage crises.”

In that respect, Shion was probably quite capable.

Precisely because he didn’t want to die, he would desperately crush any and all risks.

“Being too cowardly is no good either… but you seem to have a good balance. You might not have realized it yourself, but you were likely mentally strong to begin with. That strength was further polished by today’s failure. I saw a powerful will in your eyes just now.”

That was wrong. Shion was just a very determined coward.

That poker face of yours really backfired.

(To think my perfect poker face would trip me up…!)

Ignoring Shion, who was grinding his teeth internally, the Supervisor continued to speak smoothly.

“Certainly, entering A-Class means shouldering great expectations. After all, you’d be considered a future asset. But that’s precisely why the treatment is different. Only A-Class students receive a salary for properly attending their classes.”

The system was probably similar to the high schools of the Self-Defense Forces in the old days.

Though they were high school students, they were also SDF personnel, so they were paid a salary.

Perhaps it was modeled after that.

(Come to think of it, that was a thing… I heard it’s dozens of times more efficient than a regular part-time job.)

He dredged up knowledge he’d found on the internet and started calculating his potential profit and loss.

Inside Shion’s head, there was only one thing being contemplated: how he could suckle the sweet nectar from a safe position.

“It’s strict, but you’ll be able to place yourself in an environment where you can aim higher… I think it’s better for you, so you never have to experience regret like you did today. You’re going to reclaim on this path what you’ve lost on this path, right? If so, it’s not such a bad option.”

The words Shion had just spouted were also a reason for the A-Class recommendation.

In other words, he had dug his own grave.

“That’s… (I want to be somewhere safe so I never have to feel like this again!)”

You’re one troublesome guy, you know that?

(Shut up! But… she has a point. A-Class means a lot of talented people, right? If so, there probably won’t be as many idiots who won’t listen, so it might not be bad. But if I get into A-Class and graduate without washing out, it makes it harder to change my career path.)

He would be entering A-Class with the expectation of becoming an excellent adventurer.

During career counseling, it would be difficult to say, “I’m going to get a job at a private company.”

And what if he did? People might think, What’s that, after taking all that money…?

For Shion, a show-off who cared about his public image, that would be unbearable.

(Wait a minute… I lost a comrade this time, so if someone else in my party dies before graduation… I could say something like, “I’m not afraid of facing monsters, but—I can’t bear the fear of losing my comrades.” Wouldn’t that work?)

Appealing to emotion was effective, even in the future.

If this were an adventurer school in a foreign country, it might be different, but the school Shion attended was in Osaka, Japan.

If that’s the case, it might just work. Shion smirked internally.

It was pure wishful thinking with no guarantee of success, but in his youth, he failed to notice.

“Maybe… you’re right. As an environment to learn from my mistakes, A-Class might—might not be a bad idea.”

“Right. But don’t put too much pressure on yourself, okay? It’s not like you’re guaranteed to get in, either.”

(If I don’t, that’s fine too.) “Yes, I’ll be fine. I can do my best no matter where I am.”

“Haha, you’re a good kid.”

Shion’s cheeks relaxed at the Supervisor’s words; he was weak to flattery.

“No, not at all… Oh, right.”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Please look at my right arm, sensei.”

“The tattoo? It’s not against the school rules or anything… You listen to punk rock?”

“This isn’t a tattoo I got myself.”

Shion would never even consider getting a tattoo of his own volition.

After all, having one could cause problems with his insurance coverage.

“Actually, when I reached Kuroda, the snake was barely breathing. Thinking back on it now, it was incredibly reckless… but in a fit of passion, I took its spear and went to deliver the finishing blow.”

“That was reckless, indeed. Even if the opponent that slaughtered four people, including Kuroda, was on the verge of death, for you, a rearguard, to grab a weapon and attack it… Well, as long as you understand that, it’s fine.”

Her eyes prompted him to continue. Shion nodded and began to explain the details, mixing in some lies.

“It died surprisingly easily, but after I killed it, this tattoo appeared.”

He didn’t mention that it was a talking snake, or that it had attached itself to him to survive.

He had never heard of a monster that could understand human speech, and he certainly couldn’t tell anyone that such a creature now shared his fate.

If he did, he could very well end up as a guinea pig.

“I don’t feel any particular physical discomfort, but are there other cases like this?”

To withhold the truth while seeking only information was greedy.

But from his own perspective, it was a necessary evil.

“Ah, yes. There are cases where someone gains the power of a monster they defeated. It’s rare, but it happens. In those instances, it’s said that a mark resembling the monster appears.”

She was talking about the man called the world’s strongest adventurer.

If the tattoo was that kind of thing, the Supervisor was now convinced she had to get him into A-Class.

He might just have more potential than she could ever have imagined.

“I see…”

Shion felt a sense of relief at the Supervisor’s words.

However, since he hadn’t told the truth, he couldn’t be completely at ease.

Still, it was a great mental comfort to have someone tell him it was fine.

(They probably won’t find out it was a talking monster even if they examine it.)

Besides, it was a monster that had been nearly killed by a first-year student.

Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal. Thinking this, Shion’s mood lightened even more.

I told you it was harmless.

(I’m not naive enough to take a non-human at its word.)

That wasn’t quite true; Shion’s thinking was plenty naive.

“Alright, we’re here. I’m starting the transfer. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

The moment the affirmative reply left his lips, that familiar sensation assaulted Shion.

“I’ve returned. Four are dead, excluding Harukaze. The only remains found were Kuroda’s. The other three were apparently devoured. I’m leaving their parents to you. And Harukaze, give Kuroda’s body to the sensei over there.”

Upon returning to the room with the transfer device, the Supervisor immediately reported to the teacher who had been waiting.

For a profession where death was not uncommon, she was remarkably practiced.

“And make sure you thoroughly investigate the transfer accident. The device in question is to be shut down until the cause is determined. If we carelessly activate it and someone ends up in a place like that, the damage will only spread.”

A murmur went through the room.

It came mainly from the students who had finished their exams and returned earlier.

Curiosity swam in their eyes.

They were interested in the fact that there had been deaths, but also in Shion, the sole survivor.

“Kizaki-sensei, what about the class assignments for the others?”

The supervising teacher for B-Group answered the Supervisor’s question without hesitation.

“They have all been completed. I had them wait just in case, but they can be sent to their respective classes immediately.”

“Excellent. So Harukaze is the only one left?”

“Yes. However, in this case, will he require a re-test?”

“No, as it happens, teachers from the other groups are here as well.”

“Meaning?”